But her handmaid at the window sees a man riding in armour. He rides a grey horse, his face is pale and streaked with blood. She speaks to herself, and then to the dead--

"What wraith rideth?

Is Doomsday come?

Shall dead men ride, Shall they drive spurs in?

Ho, pale rider, Hast thou leave homeward to fare?"

It is Helgi who answers her as he rides by upon a noiseless horse--

"This is no wraith, This is not World's Doom Though a dead man rides, Though he p.r.i.c.ks with spurs, Leave I have homeward to fare."

And then he cries aloud, so that Sigrun hears him, and looks up, listening--

"Ha, come thou forth, Sigrun of Sevafell!

Here is thy lord If thou wouldst see him; The cairn is open, Helgi is here With the sword-wounds bleeding--staunch thou the blood!

For I must ride soon The reddening roads, My good horse climb The ways of the air; West of the sky-bridge Needs I must be Before the grey c.o.c.k cry to the sun."

Sigrun is up now, and at the door. She pants as she pulls at the bobbin of the latch. Her eyes are on fire with eagerness. But the maid cries to her--

"Go not, go not, Sigrun of Sevafell, Sister of kings, Seek not the house of the dead!

For the night is abroad When the dead are mighty; Await bright dawn, thou shalt be stronger."

But Sigrun is out in the moonlight, and Helgi is upon his feet. Now she has him in her arms; now she holds his pale face between her hands and speaks to him close--

"The hawks of Odin Greet not the Storm-lord, Scenting the slain, their smoking quarry, Not more eagerly Cry they the dawn dew Than I cry thee, dead King Helgi.

Now I kiss thee, dead King Helgi, Ere thou castest Thy blood-clutter'd mail-shirt.

b.l.o.o.d.y the dew On thy dauntless body, Heavy the rime On thy raven love-locks; Cold are thy hands, Helgi, my king's son, How shall I loose thee, lover and lord?"

But Helgi puts her hands away from his face and holds her apart--

"The death-dew is dank on me, Sigrun of Sevafell, This is thy doing, O sun-fraught lady, Golden woman, the tears thou sheddest Upon thy bed stay not beside thee; Like blood they fall, cold and deathly, Like sobs they stab me Through the breast!"

Then, seeing her despair, he throws up his white face towards the moon and laughs without joy--

"Ho, let us drink Deep draughts of joy, We that have lost Land and life!

Let no man keen us, Let no man pity The wounds shining upon my body."

He clasps her close in his arms, and speaks as it were between his teeth.

"Now is a queen, Sigrun of Sevafell, Now is a queen Shut in the cairn, Living and warm with the cold dead."

But she strains him to her and cries aloud-- "Helgi, Helgi, here is thy bed made, Thou son of Wolfings, a warm bed, a gentle-- Fast in arms, Helgi, enfold me; As when thou livedst Clip me in death sleep."

And then the maid sees the cairn open, and Sigrun lying in it in the dead man's arms. Helgi lifts up his face to the moonlight, and sings--

"Never on Sevafell A great marvel-- No more wondrous That hill of magic-- For Hogni's white daughter Lies with a dead man; A king's daughter Alive in the arms of the dead."

There is no more terrible song than that, nor one in which love is brought so close to death. When she remembered it after-wards Gudrid saw well that she had indeed been lying with a dead man when that song was sung to her. For if she could have had the wits she would have felt at the time the death-dew on his face. But love had then bereft her of all wits.

She called that year afterwards the Little Summer, as well because of the glory and promise of it as for the few days it held. By the end of June she knew herself with child. Thorstan gave a sort of sobbing gasp when she told him and pressed her to his heart. She felt the wet from his eyes upon her cheek, looked at him and saw tears. "You weep at my news?" "It is because I am happy, my love." She herself was softly elated by the gift she was to be enabled to make him, but not otherwise. All her love was centred in him just then.

But in July the ship came home from Wineland the Good without Thorwald, and with the heavy news. Eric, who had been ageing, was very much cast down by it. He wished Lief to go out and fetch back the body; but Lief did not seem inclined to move. He told Thorstan his reason. "If we can move out, house and homestead, gear and cattle, man, woman and child, well and good. It is a finer country than this. I will settle there gladly. But you see how it is with our father. He won't last long, and you will see he will refuse to move. This is his Settlement; he has made it for himself. He is king of all this country, and he feels it. Now if we go and leave him here, he will die--and what then?

The end of Eric's kingdom. No, I shall stay here and take up the government after him. But I think that you should go--you and Gudrid."

Thorstan said: "I think so too. I will speak to Gudrid. But I shall wait till after harvest."

He told Gudrid what he thought. "They have buried him heathenwise, sitting with his weapons, looking out to sea, and heaped the stones over him. True, they have set up a cross atop. But he should have the rites. I must see to that. We will go, my love, if you are willing--but maybe we shall not come back."

She looked at him fondly. "I will go wherever you bid me. But we shall come back." It is wonderful that she did not remember what had been predicted of her; but she did not.

Thorstan did not meet her eyes. "We will go, then. But not till after harvest."

"Harvest!" said she. "You will not go in the winter?"

"No, no," he said. "The harvest will not be done." Then she knew that he did not speak of the corn-harvest, but of their own.

The year sped quickly, as happy years will do; the harvest of the earth was gathered, the winter fell, the clinging mists, the still and deadly cold. But they were a happy household at Brattalithe, for Gudrid was found to be a solvent of much domestic ferment. Her sweet manners drew even Theodhild to come in and out of the house, and hushed the storms which periodically swept over Freydis the Wild. At Yule there was a feast of many days, singing, eating and drinking, and games in the snow for the young men. Gudrid sat apart and watched it, Thorstan never far away from her. Still she didn't guess what lent such fervour to their loves. Foolish with happiness, she thought it was the first of many Yules--whether here in this frost-locked country or in the forests of Wineland mattered little to her. She saw them all in years to come as they were now and felt her heart high in her breast.

And then at the end of March, when men began to talk again of the ice breaking up, and the thawing of the pa.s.sages, her child was born. It was a girl, and christened Walgerd. And now Thorstan looked about him at the still sheeted lands and knew that his hour was at hand. He told n.o.body, he never betrayed himself; but went to work silently and methodically.

XIX

It was the end of summer again before they were ready to sail. The ship which brought home Thorwald's crew had gone a voyage to Iceland and not come back. It was necessary to find and furnish another; no crew would ship until the harvest was over; and though Gudrid was willing to follow Thorstan at a word, Eric had not wanted her to leave him yet; so she saw one more high summer.

They fared badly from the start, with heavy weather as soon as they were off the land. After a week of bl.u.s.tering south-west gales and rain the wind went round to the north. Then from the N.N.W. there began a storm the like of which none of them had ever known, and for week after week they were buried in it, not knowing where they were.

They lost men, tackle, stores; there was not a dry rag on the ship; every day Thorstan expected the snow. Instead of that, after a few days of sunny weather, the wind dropped in a clear sky; it began to freeze, and then came the white blanket to cling about sheets and spars, and hold them close, a blur drifting upon a sea like oil.

Gudrid sat like a ghost in the after deckhouse, nursing her baby and trying to keep it warm. It did not thrive and could not be expected to thrive. She was sure it would die. And so it did--died in its sleep while she was suckling it. She felt the cold upon its legs; and then it grew heavy. She looked down--its eyelids were blue. But she did not move.

Thorstan came down to see her. He knew at once. He went to her and covered her breast in the blanket. He said nothing, but was very gentle.

"Oh, husband, speak to me! Our little baby----"